


don't care what it costs, no ray of sunlight's ever lost

by imadetheline



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, M/M, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, but like right after, it's been a rough couple of days, skysolo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadetheline/pseuds/imadetheline
Summary: Luke doesn’t bother with the lights, darkness awash around them. His hand, the prosthetic one not clasped in Han’s, snakes its way around the smuggler’s neck and pulls him down into a languid kiss. As he always is, Luke is warm against him, the cool air of space pushed away by his presence. Han’s hands rise to cup Luke’s cheeks, and he’s surprised, as he always is, when his fingertips don’t burn. The farm boy-turned-Jedi is a star, and Han is stuck helplessly in his orbit, burning up daily.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97





	don't care what it costs, no ray of sunlight's ever lost

**Author's Note:**

> title from saturday sun by vance joy
> 
> i have no idea what this is. it's my first attempt at writing skysolo and i wrote it super quickly without reading it over cause I'm tired so hopefully it's not too bad :)

The furtive glances they get as they walk down the corridors of Home One could not mean less to Han, but he glances at Luke out of the corner of his eye and sees his downturned chin, steadily avoiding meeting any eyes. It takes everything in him not to pull Luke’s face up and kiss him then and there. But he knows Luke wouldn’t appreciate more attention on them, so he restrains himself. His fingers do tighten around Luke’s, though, earning a grateful squeeze in return where they hang between the two.

The lights begin to dim with the beginning of the night cycle as they reach Luke’s quarters. Han notices the man’s shoulders slump slightly in relief as the door hisses open, revealing the familiar view of Luke’s room, familiar even though he hasn’t been there in a year. Luke glances up at him as if he can tell Han had been thinking about his time in carbonite and wordlessly tugs him into the room, letting the door slide closed behind them. 

Luke doesn’t bother with the lights, darkness awash around them. His hand, the prosthetic one not clasped in Han’s, snakes its way around the smuggler’s neck and pulls him down into a languid kiss. As he always is, Luke is warm against him, the cool air of space pushed away by his presence. Han’s hands rise to cup Luke’s cheeks, and he’s surprised, as he always is, when his fingertips don’t burn. The farm boy-turned-Jedi is a star, and Han is stuck helplessly in his orbit, burning up daily.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, as if they have all the time in the galaxy. And Han supposes they do, what with the emperor dead and the death star destroyed for the second time. He very much hopes there won’t be a third. Luke pulls back, smiling softly in the dark, one hand tangled in Han’s hair, and as Han looks down at him, all he wants is to kiss the Jedi again. And he tries, but Luke pulls back with a light chuckle at Han’s confused expression.

“I know you haven’t actually rested since we left Endor, and I haven’t either,” he says, hand leaving Han’s neck to tug at his hand. He steps further into the room towards the bed, and Han doesn’t protest. It’s true; he hasn’t slept in quite a while. Now that he’s thinking about it, his limbs are dragging, and he blinks tiredly. Plus, he can’t say no to the kid, not when he’s still smiling over his shoulder at Han.

So he allows Luke to drag him to the bed, where he starts pulling off his vest and shirt. He watches Luke set down his commlink on the side table next to the chrono that pointedly tells them it’s less late at night than early in the morning. It doesn’t matter, though. Command’s promised them at least a week off. Although, Han almost snorts, he knows Leia’s going to be right back in the middle of things in a few hours, and Luke’s probably going to be right behind her, despite the ordeal they’ve just gone through. He definitely sees how they’re related, wonders how he didn’t see it before.

His eyes follow Luke’s lean frame as he drags off his boots and goes to take off his shirt. Han’s already pulling back the covers on the bed, yawning, when he pauses. Luke’s stopped, fingers frozen where he’d been in the middle of lifting his shirt, silhouette barely visible in the dark.

Han’s eyes narrow, “You alright, kid?”

There’s a shaky exhale, and then Luke’s hands fall back to his side, prosthetic hand clenching listlessly before he turns around, blue eyes sparkling in nonexistent light. “It’s fine. I just-” His breath hitches slightly, and Han instinctively rounds the bed and takes Luke’s hands in his own, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against the flesh and metal alike, and waits. He’d wait forever for Luke. Kriff, he’s whipped.

But Luke shoots a grateful smile up at him, and Han doesn’t care; he nods encouragingly. “Everything was just so fast… and I guess I’ve been avoiding it, but… he’s gone.” His hands shake slightly, and Han knows who he’s talking about.

The last few days have been a whirlwind of dealing with the aftermath of the battle of Endor, and he knows Luke’s been intent on helping everyone and carefully skirting the edges of what happened on the death star. He’d told Han the basics in whispers a day ago, under the trees of Endor on a rare break. But he hasn’t absorbed it.

All Han can do is pull the kid close, tucking Luke’s head beneath his chin and hold him. Luke doesn’t cry, just grasps at Han’s bare back and breathes shakily in and out. Han doesn’t understand, probably never will, but he’s here, and he hopes that’s enough.

“It is enough,” comes a whisper from below his head. 

He looks sharply down at Luke, who’s now smiling tiredly up at him. “You gotta stop with that mind-reading thing, kid.”

Luke’s smile widens, “It’s not my fault you think so kriffing loud,” and Han can’t help the smile that tugs at his own lips. They’re going to be alright. He smacks Luke’s arm for good measure, though, and Luke laughs. Force, he’s missed that laugh.

Han just grumbles out, “Just get in the bed, for Force sake,” and turns away, crawling into the bed and hiding his smile. He knows Luke sees it anyway.

His breath catches for a moment when Luke finally pulls off his tunic, eyes wide. Thin white lines trace random paths across the pale skin, crossing back and forth over every inch, almost like… lightning. “Luke…”

Luke pivots, confusion drawing his brows together before he seems to realize. “Oh yeah,” he huffs a rueful laugh, “those. They’re, uh, a souvenir, I guess.” Han knows that answer means he’s not ready to talk about exactly what happened.

Han manages to force air back into his lungs and contain the rage at whoever (he has a guess, and if the man weren’t already dead, Han would kill him himself) dared hurt the kindest person he knows. That’s not what Luke needs. 

He just pulls back the covers and opens his arms. Luke slips in, warmth radiating through Han’s soul as Han traces light fingers over the thin scars, and it's like Luke was meant to be there, in his arms. And Han’s sure he was.

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys liked it leave a comment. They make my day! Seriously I love reading them so please leave me one cause they motivate me to write more! if you guys have ideas for other stories send me an ask on tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imadetheline) or just yell about stuff with me. Info about me and all my other tumblrs are [here](https://infoabtmaddie.carrd.co/#)


End file.
